33

One shell hit the water and gave only a tall gray tight fountain, and the second turned the edge of the swamp and solid earth, raising a cloud of mud and slurry, groaning deafly in the ears and falling asleep with small branches, foliage, sticky pieces of soil. Breaking branches, a hopelessly dirty schmuck fell out of the bushes onto Ratmir. The face, streamlined with brown strokes, was recognizable as a lieutenant - the platoon commander, in whose stronghold it all happened. There was always almost nothing to see here because of dense shrubs and a solid wall of treetops above, which did not let in sunlight. But now, in the clouds of dirt raised by the explosions and fine suspension of water, plucked leaves and small branches, it was now completely impossible even to determine where anyone was. Instead of all landmarks, the only noticeable points were bright short erratic flashes of breaks. The sound was also not clear - it was impossible to determine the range and strength of the cla
Continue to read this book on the App

Related Chapters

Latest Chapter